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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26067103">Lady in red</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/percywinchester27/pseuds/percywinchester27'>percywinchester27</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Supernatural</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Canon-Typical Violence, Character Death, F/M, Feels, Fluff and Angst, Fluffy Ending, Implied Sexual Content, Mutual Pining, Mystery</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 12:08:52</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>15,004</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26067103</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/percywinchester27/pseuds/percywinchester27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of disappearances from high-end parties ending in murders; recovered dead bodies sucked clean but without a bite mark. What is it? The reader has been working with the Winchesters for a year now but what is her equation with both of them? Is she in love with a certain green-eyed Winchester? Ball rooms and tuxes are involved.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Dean Winchester/You, Dean/reader</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>32</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>39</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This mini-series is completed. I sincerely hope that you like it :)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“This is frustrating!” You sighed as you slammed shut yet another book.</p><p>You were sitting cross-legged on the floor of the library with your back resting against Sam’s legs who was lounging on the couch.</p><p>“Patience, Y/N. We are bound to find something,” Sam said but he didn’t sound too excited either.</p><p>Both of you had been scouring through the lore for hours now, looking into the most peculiar series of murders. Something was taking young, rich women from middle of crowded places- parties, charity events, and balls. The dead bodies had been recovered from various ditches on the outskirts of this particular town, sucked clean of all life fluid, but without a single bite mark. It had been painful to look at those shriveled up, mummified bodies. Even in pictures, it was clear that it had to be something supernatural. Dean had decided to check the bodies out since the town was only a couple hours drive from the bunker, while you and Sam had stayed back to find anything that could clue you in on the monster.</p><p><em>Dean</em>.</p><p>One stray thought about him and you had come undone. You had been hunting with the Winchesters for over a year now and that was the exact duration of time that you had been in love with Dean Winchester; a hopeless and all consuming love, but just as unrequited. You pulled your knees up and hugged yourself tighter as your heart twisted. Sure you were taken with him the moment you had seen him, but the seemingly innocent crush at first sight had turned painful over time as day after day you saw him sauntering into the bunker in the mornings, with just-fucked hair and the smuggest of smiles. You were not stupid, you had seen the sort of women he spent his nights with. After every successful hunt when you went out to celebrate in a bar, women practically threw themselves at the green-eyed Winchester- hot women with low cut blouses and swaying hips and you couldn’t be more different from those.</p><p>Of course you knew they were just mindless hook-ups for him. Over the year you knew enough of him to know that he wasn’t scared of commitment, he only had this weirdest notion etched in his head that hunters couldn't have that life. Yet, you had seen hunters settle down with other hunters and as much it hurt you, whenever the thought of Dean finally taking the plunge crossed your mind, you only saw this faceless, fierce hunter in ripped jeans and badass leather jacket, boldly flirting with Dean over a bottle of beer. Even that image was far from you.</p><p>You sighed. You weren’t that hot chick from the bar and you weren’t that ultimate badass hunter either. You were a nerd! A dorky, bespectacled nerd. This was what you did best, hole up in the library, dressed up in baggy t-shirts with sarcastic quotes and shorts, researching and taking care of the back office while the Winchesters hunted. You weren’t useless. You could hack into any damn system within minutes, re-route cameras, produce fake documents that could give the originals a run for their money and you were stealthy. You had pulled the Winchesters out of tight spots more number of times than you could count.</p><p>Your quick-thinking was what had gotten the Winchesters to notice you in the first place. Your father had been a hunter and you had been with him on the same case that had brought the brothers to that particular town. The police there had almost pinned them for fake FBI, except you had intercepted the call to DC and confidently confirmed their affiliation. Later that night your father- who had known John- had proudly presented you- <em>the girl who saved asses</em>- to the boys. One look at Dean and you were head over heels. You had stuttered your name, letting the bangs fall to your face so you could hide your furiously flaming cheeks.</p><p>That was one night you could never forget. It was the night you had found your best friend- Sam Winchester. You had been sitting alone at the bar, fiddling with the hem of your shirt while drinking a fruit punch, because booze wasn’t really your thing and you were too much of a chicken to join the table with your dad and the Winchesters. That’s where Sam had found you. The boy had been awed by what you could do with a computer. You had been shy initially but then you had told him the story of how you had had to drop out of Stanford when your mom was killed by a shape-shifter. It had been too much for you and you couldn’t continue school. You had helped your dad find the shape-shifter and eventually kill it. Sam had smiled sadly at you, telling you his own story, which had been so painful, that you had tears in your eyes by the end of it. You had talked all night long, even after the bar had been shut. There was something about Sam that made you open up to him.</p><p>But that was not why you remembered that night. You remembered it because it was the last night you had kissed your father good-night on the cheek. You had stayed back in the motel, while the boys and your dad had left for the hunt in high spirits. Your father had kissed you on your forehead and boisterously climbed into the Impala, laughing with the boys. A coven of three vampires? Cake walk, right? Only, it wasn’t. You had waited with baited breath, as always for him to return, but this last time, he hadn’t. You still remembered how you had ripped yourself from the bed and quickly scampered to the window when you heard the rumble of the Impala. But only two people had gotten out of the car and your dad wasn’t either of them. You had been so confused, your mind rejecting the immediate reasoning. You had watched as the brothers walked up to your door and opened it.</p><p>You had looked into Dean’s eyes as he uttered a single word- “Sorry”. He had explained to you how the nest had actually been bigger than what they had surmised earlier and how a lone surviving Vampire had attacked your dad at the very last minute, when they had thought that the hunt was over. It had been your dad’s dying wish that they cremate him without you having to see him dead, like you’d had to see your mother. Dean had repeated a steady stream of sorrys after that because he couldn’t bring your dad back, but you hadn’t moved or even uttered a word. Only when Sam had called out your name, had you launched yourself at Dean, hitting him every way you could. Your tiny frame couldn’t possibly have done any lasting damage to him but you had flung yourself at him nevertheless, trying to hurt him as viciously as you could and he hadn’t even tried to defend himself.</p><p>A minuscule part of you that was still rational knew that it wasn’t Dean’s fault, death during a hunt was never anyone’s fault. Your dad knew what he was getting into and from what Dean had told you no one could have helped him. However, you still wanted to blame Dean for this and the fact that he was actually holding himself guilty was what aggravated you further. And that’s what you had done. You had yelled yourself sore and hit him till you couldn’t feel your hands and you would have continued had Sam’s gentle but firm hands not pried your fingers from Dean’s chest and pulled you to his. That’s when you had broken down. You had clutched Sam’s bloody shirt and sobbed yourself into unconsciousness.</p><p>The truth was that you had been angry. Terribly and insanely angry. Angry with your father for continuing down this path of revenge even after your mother’s death had been avenged, angry that he hadn’t quit even after you had pleaded so much, angry that he went on this hunt and angry that he had decided for you whether or not you got to see him that one last time. It should have been your decision to make and now you would never see him again; never see that that smile again, ever. You were angry with Sam and Dean, too, for letting him have his way. By stepping up and apologizing, Dean had just made himself an easy target for your outburst. It’s just the way he had walked into the bar the night before, all alpha-male. You had been awed. Looking at him, you’d thought that this Greek god of a man could never falter, could never make mistakes, could never fail. What you had forgotten in your minute of over-glorified admiration was that Dean Winchester, in all his cockiness, masculinity and heroism was still in fact a man who hurt and failed just like everyone else.</p><p>You didn’t know was how he had beaten himself up over failing you and your father that night. What you had done to him was nothing compared to what he had done to himself. When you had finally woken up in the morning, the grief had been much worse but so had the remorse. It had eventually come to you, how pointless and shameful it had been to blame a mere stranger for your dad’s death, especially after he had done everything in his power to save your father. Seeing Dean had been even worse. You had left bruises and scratches all over his face, his chest must have been way worse. You had been so ashamed of yourself that you couldn’t even meet his eyes. He had however politely asked to sit next to you on your bed while you had scooted away and backed into the dashboard, pained by his humility. In all your sadness, you had only listened to Dean as he apologized once again and asked you if you’d move in to the bunker with them. He had made it perfectly clear that it wasn’t of pity but purely because of your talent, however both he and Sam would understand it perfectly if you weren’t interested and hadn’t forgiven them.</p><p>The truth was that there was nothing to forgive them for and you really didn’t have anyone, anymore. You had been a loner all your life- the nerd girl at the bench in the back of the class. It was your Mamma and Daddy who had your back. They were the only ones who knew how talkative you were and you had never needed anyone else and suddenly you had no one.</p><p>Dean had said his sorry once more, without meeting your eyes and had risen to leave when you had caught hold of his hand, to stop him, uttering one sentence- “I’ll come with you.”</p><p>That one sentence had changed your life. The one year that had followed, had made you realise that you couldn’t have met two better men. Sam had been a pillar through the initial few weeks. Even though you hardly knew him, he was always there, holding you and whispering kind words, always reminding you that things will get better and eventually they had. That was what had cemented the friendship between you two. You were about as comfortable with him, as you were in your own skin. He was like a brother and your best friend now.</p><p>With Dean, the initial phase had been difficult, where you had avoided him at all costs because you couldn’t look at those bruises on his jaws, couldn’t look at the sadness in his eyes. You couldn’t find it in yourself to take those few steps to his room and say how sorry you were. Dean had been perfectly civil, giving you your space while you adjusted in the bunker. The awkwardness would have continued had it not been for the next hunt where you had not only figured out what it was that you had been hunting but also saved their asses from the authorities. You had all celebrated the night by binge-watching the Mission Impossible movies and somewhere between Ethan Hunt’s impossible saves, you and Dean had relaxed around each other. Over the year while he had increasingly become comfortable around you and admired you for your wit, you had completely fallen for the man.</p><p>What had started out as awed admiration had eventually graduated into respectful love. Yes, <em>love.</em> You understood the implication of that word and this was definitely that. That first time he had made you weak in your knees and set your heart racing but now every time you saw him, you all but melted. He was much more than a divine face and a smart-mouth, he was one of the purest souls you had ever met. There was no question of not loving him, there never was. Even now whenever you saw him, you found it hard to get a single sentence out without stuttering. Dean had come to assume that maybe that’s how you were around everyone, but he couldn’t be farther from the truth.</p><p>“You’re right, this is frustrating!” The thump of the book as Sam shut the book, brought you back to the now.</p><p>“We’re never going to find what monster this is,” you groaned. Your stomach groaned with you. That’s when you looked up at the clock and realized that the both of you had been holed up researching for five hours straight.</p><p>Sam chuckled. “You’re hungry, Y/N, and so am I. I’ll make a food run.”</p><p>“No, Sam,” you stopped him. You were tired of all the take outs. “I’ll go fry us some eggs. You should take a break, too.”</p><p>Sam flexed his fingers and pulled his laptop towards himself. “No. I think I should go through those book-marked articles again. I have this nagging feeling that I’m missing something.”</p><p>“Alright, Sammy boy,” you called out as you pushed yourself off the floor and made your way to the kitchen, “you keep digging.”</p><p>In the kitchen, you quickly set to work, falling into your routine pattern from whenever you cooked- pan over the stove and music blaring on your ipod. You always started with the same song- <em>Lady in Red</em> by Chris De Burgh.</p><p>The familiar beats filled the space as you sand along-</p><p><em>I’ve never seen you looking so lovely as you did tonight</em><br/>
<em>I’ve never seen you shine so bright</em><br/>
<em>I’ve never seen so many men ask you if you wanted to dance</em><br/>
<br/>
Your hips swayed to the rhythm on their own accord. This was your go to song, it was your respite. There was a story to it.</p><p>“It’s your favorite song, isn’t it?”</p><p>You whirled around, startled, as your hands flew to your throat. Dean was leaning against the kitchen door frame, his arms crossed over his chest, a small smile playing on his full lips.</p><p>“D-Dean, you’re back,” you stammered.</p><p>“Well yeah,” he said and then continued from earlier, “I’ve heard you play it before.”</p><p>“Yeah, it’s my favorite,” you finally managed. This was exactly the sort of song Dean never played in his car. Standing like that, he took your breath away. How could he not know what he did to you?</p><p>“Well, come on out, kiddo. Sam thinks he’s figured out what’s doing the killing. The trip to the town was a bust. Here’s to hoping that at least Sammy found something.”</p><p>“Yeah, you go on. I’ll be out in a minute with the eggs.”</p><p>“Save me some, too?” Dean winked at you before turning around and heading back to the library, leaving you to pick up your heart which had relocated itself to somewhere near your stomach.</p><p>“Right, Winchester,” you muttered to yourself as you made to follow him out, “by the way, I love you.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Hey, Y/N’s here, spit it out now,” Dean called to Sam, his eyes on the pan full of fried eggs. Sam, however, was almost jumping up and down in his seat.</p><p>“Y/N!” Sam exclaimed. “I figured it out. It’s a Daityaa!”</p><p>“Come again, a what?” You asked, placing the pan in front of Dean and hurriedly making your way towards Sam, then looking over his shoulder into the screen.</p><p>“A Daityaa,” Sam said, pointing out to the screen. “They’re similar to Rakshasaas but instead of using children and killing their parents, these specifically target young, attractive women and they also have a penchant for gold.”</p><p>“So that explains the rich parties,” you deduced.</p><p>“Yeah, but get this, unlike the Rakshasaas, these suckers don’t need permission to enter a house or approach the victim. They can come out only at night, though. It says here that they can appear as humans or animals if they want to,” Sam said, looking into the article.</p><p>“Kind of like shapeshifters then,” you muttered.</p><p>“The question is,” said Dean from across the table. “How do we gank this mother?”</p><p>He was sitting with right ankle resting over his left knee, casually leaning back into his chair and eating the fried eggs straight out of the pan with his fingers. His full lips were glistening with the remnant oil from the eggs and he sucked at his fingers once before continuing with whatever he was saying… something that you couldn’t concentrate on.</p><p>“Y/N?” Sam’s voice brought you back to the now and you realized that you’d been staring; your mouth had fallen open and your glassed had slid down to the tip of your nose. You pushed them back up with your index finger and cleared your throat once.</p><p>“Uhh… yeah Sam?”</p><p>“Dean asked you whether you can think of any way to draw it out?” Sam asked; he was smirking a little.</p><p>“We need to know how to kill it first, before drawing it out,” you replied.</p><p>Sam smirked wider. “I just said it out loud Y/N, wooden stakes. Where’s your attention?” He enunciated each word, like he was talking to a child.</p><p>This made you blush a little. You looked down, letting the bangs cover your face. Of course you missed the most important part of the monster- ganking conversation because you were busy ogling at Dean Winchester. Typical. One of these days Sam was going to find out about your too obvious, one-sided love and it wasn’t going to be pretty. In fact, part of you suspected that Sam already knew. But then he would have brought it up with you, right?</p><p>“Maybe we should look out for the next big event in the town. I mean the place is full of rich people. It’s like Stepford all over again,” you said, trying to salvage the situation.</p><p>“Y/N’s right actually.” Dean was the one who replied. “I hit the bar on my way back. There’s going to be an auction there tomorrow night. You’d think the people would be smart enough to stop all their society functions after the bodies started dropping, but no!”</p><p>“Still doesn’t answer the question,” you thought out loud. “How do we trick it into showing itself, if it only goes after young, rich women?”</p><p>The answer presented itself without you having to mull over it. In fact, it was dancing right in front of you- you’d have to bait the Daityaa. It wasn’t rocket science. Even though you weren’t that attractive and you didn’t have a penny to your name, you were the best bet because, well, you were a woman after all. It hit all three of you at the same time.</p><p>“No,” said Dean, while you and Sam went- “Yes”</p><p>“Oh c'mon! We’re not going to make a bait out of Y/N. I mean look at her.”</p><p>That stung. Did he think you were not pretty enough? Sure, you knew you weren’t pretty enough but for Dean to say it out like that? It felt like someone had kicked your puppy, but then Dean continued…</p><p>“Does she look like she can handle killing with a wooden stake?”</p><p>Oh… he was referring to your zero combat skills. It annoyed you how this man could wreck a havoc over your emotions without even knowing that he was capable of that.</p><p>You looked into his brilliant green eyes, trying to outwit him and lost your train of thought. What was intended to be a smart-ass come back, came out as a garbled reply. “I can handle myself, Dean.”</p><p>“Yeah sure, kiddo, you can handle yourself in front of the computer.”</p><p>You crossed your arms and tried unimpressively to glare at him. Sam came to your rescue.</p><p>“Give her some credit, Dean. She has pulled us out of some pretty tight spots, you know. Besides, what other option do we have? It’s not like either of us can draw the damn thing out.”</p><p>Dean opened his mouth to say something but then closed it again, he looked torn. The unexpected worry in his eyes confused you; he almost looked pained.</p><p>“Fine. I’ll go with her,” he finally said looking at Sam, then he turned to you and his eyes softened a little. “ There’s no way in hell I’m going to let you do this solo, you understand me?”</p><p>The look that he gave you, took your breath away. Words failed you and you simply nodded. Why? Why did this man have such an effect on you? Weren’t things complicated already? The room suddenly seemed a bit claustrophobic. You needed to get out. You looked around wildly for a reason and your eyes fell over the empty pan. Jumping hastily out of the chair you had perched yourself on, you picked up the pan in one sudden movement and hurried towards the kitchen with the “I’ll be back with more” excuse.</p><p>Back in the kitchen, you slumped down on the floor against the counter. If you had been anything close to a drinker, now would be the time you’d want to get drunk. It was so easy to love Dean sometimes- when he was humming to himself in the Impala or when he was totally and utterly absorbed in fixing her up. You could stare at him for hours at a stretch but on days like these when he showed even the slightest hint that he cared for you, it suddenly became too difficult. You were logical; you knew why he cared for you, and it wasn’t in a way that you wanted him to. It hurt so damn much.</p><p>When the eggs were ready, you took a few deep breaths, ready to go out once more. You were relatively composed as you walked back towards the library and you would have continued into it, had it not been for the heated voices echoing lightly of the walls. You stopped to listen.</p><p>“What the hell were you thinking, Sam?” Dean was trying his best to not yell.</p><p>“Don’t underestimate her, Dean. You think she’s incapable of helping us?”</p><p>“She’s a freaking genius. I know that but that’s not an excuse to put her in danger.”</p><p>“She’s way more competent.”</p><p>“Be that as it may, I’m not putting her in any danger. Don’t you remember Danny’s last words?”</p><p>Your breath hitched. You didn’t know about this. Why hadn’t either of them ever told you what your father’s last words were. You pressed yourself firmly against the wall because you needed to know.</p><p>Sam sighed. “I do. He asked us to keep Y/N safe but she has a mind of her own and she should get to decide what she wants to do.”</p><p>“Dammit, Sammy!” Dean hissed. “I don’t want something to happen to her, not on my watch, not again.”</p><p>Shit. It was guilt. This was why he didn’t want you to put yourself in danger. Try you might, but a tiny part of your heart had wanted to believe that maybe he liked you, too. As always, it was only guilt. If there was one thing you knew about Dean Winchester, it was that guilt governed his life. He felt guilty for John, for getting Sam out of Stanford, for Kevin and for your father’s death. He did not see you that way, never had. You were done; you did not want to hear anymore of this whispered conversation. You took a few steps back and breathed out a fake cough. The conversation stopped immediately and by the time you walked into the library, they had resumed their places.</p><p>“Eggs,” you said shakily</p><p>“Hey thanks, Y/N,” said Sam. “We were just discussing, you might need to take a shopping break after all. It’s a formal event, ball gowns and stuff.” He shrugged.</p><p>“I already have something,” you muttered, without thinking it through.</p><p>Two pairs of eyes looked at you questioningly and you couldn’t really blame them. You didn’t even have a skirt to your name. Nothing but shorts and a few pairs of jeans. There was no reason why you would own an evening gown. No wonder they looked like they were waiting for the punch-line of the joke. You sighed.</p><p>“I really own one guys, I don’t need a shopping trip.”</p><p>“Okay.” Dean nodded, pouting a little, trying to gauge your mood. You realized you were staring again.</p><p><em>Get a grip, Y/N!</em> Shaking your head slightly, you put the pan down on the table and took your seat in front of the computer. You had work to do.</p><p>“Question is…” Dean started, after a while, “ How’d we get into this rich-ass auc-”</p><p>“Done,” you smirked, drumming your fingers over the keys.</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“I said <em>done</em>. You’re in; two tickets for tomorrow’s auction booked for a certain Mr. and Mrs. Richards.” You smiled in spite of yourself.</p><p>“I’ve said it before, Y/N. You’re a freaking mastermind,” Dean laughed as he got up and kissed you on the forehead. “What would we ever do without you?”</p><p>“Ahh…” You were rendered speechless. Were you even supposed to answer that question?</p><p>“Crap, I'm going to have to rent a tux.” Dean said as he picked up the keys and made a move to leave. "Be nice both of you. Don’t research yourself into madness while I’m gone.“</p><p>You just stared after him. This man was going to be the death of you and you knew it. What was he thinking, coming up to you and kissing you like that? While he could just walk out of the door like nothing had happened; sitting here, not moving a muscle was all you could do to stop yourself from turning into a puddle on the floor. This love was going to take you apart piece by piece. It was like enduring the torture of all the seven layers of hell at the same time. Maybe they had invented this new eight circle of torture specifically for you. The skin on your forehead where his lips had touched you seared without pain. It felt like being branded. The worst part was that there was nothing you could do to get yourself out of this agony. What could you even do?</p><p>"Tell him,” Sam whispered.</p><p>You whirled around to face him. “Excuse me?”</p><p>Sam looked down at you from where he was sitting atop the table. You could see the worry in his eyes.</p><p>He sighed. “Y/N, I’d decided to let you do it your way. When you were ready. But now you're just hurting yourself over him.”</p><p><em>Damn it, he knows.</em> “W-What?”</p><p>“You like him. May be more than <em>like</em> him.”</p><p>It wasn’t a question, it was a statement and there was no point denying it. So Sam knew. That didn’t mean you had to talk about it, though. The eavesdropped conversation from earlier still hurt and you didn’t want to reopen that particular gash.</p><p>You shut the laptop and pushed yourself out of the chair. You so didn’t want to have this conversation right now. You pushed your specs up your nose and flattened the bangs against your forehead as you turned around, heading towards your room.</p><p>“No point running, Y/N,” Sam mumbled to himself but you heard it anyways.</p><p><em>'Yeah, Watch me' </em>was your last thought as you fled towards your room.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Back in your room, you flung the door shut with a loud bang. You didn’t want to deal with all these feelings right now. Hell, you didn’t even know <em>how</em> to deal with them in the first place. What were you thinking? Of course Sam knew! That guy knew everything about you. From that first night in the bar, you had shared everything with him except this, but he was one intuitive son of a bitch. You should have known that Sam would figure out your blatantly obvious thing for Dean. Geez! It felt like being back in high school, crushing over Jim Pines. Except this was hundred times worse and Jim Pines had been a dick. Dean, however, was perfect in every sense of the word.</p><p>You sighed and flopped on your bed, pulling your headset from the bedside table and putting it on, turning up the volume to max level. This was your way of dealing. The song from earlier blared into your ears, Chris De Burg’s soothing voice immediately calming you down.</p><p>
  <em>The lady in red is dancing with me, cheek to cheek,<br/>There’s nobody here, it’s just you and me,<br/>It’s where I want to be,<br/>But I hardly know this beauty by my side,<br/>I’ll never forget the way you look tonight</em>
</p><p>Dean was right about that one thing though, this was your absolute favorite song. It was the song that had brought your parents together. You couldn’t help but smile at that thought. Your dad had moved into your mom’s town in high school and it had been love at first sight for him. He had plucked up courage to ask your mom to the senior prom and she had said <em>yes</em>. This was the first song that they had danced on that prom night. After they were married, your dad bought your mom a red dress every year on their anniversary and they danced on the same song to reminisce that first day. It was the song that you had grown up listening to; your parents played it around the house shamelessly. Your mother hummed it while cooking and it was the first song your dad played when he tuned his Jeep. This song was the closest thing to your fathers kiss and your mothers hug, now that they were gone.</p><p>The love story of your parents was your absolute favorite but the end had been terribly tragic. After your mom’s death both you and your father had been shattered and the only thing keeping you together was distracting yourself with the hunt. You had both thrown yourself into finding that creature and eventually killing it. The gleam in your father’s eyes as he had watched the dead remains of the shifter burn had scared you. The grief had altered him in irreparable ways; he wasn’t the timid man he used to be and you didn’t like it but hunting was what kept him going and in spite of your repeated attempts to divert him from that life, he had never budged. That gleam was what had gotten him killed.</p><p>You? You didn’t fit in at Stanford anyway, too nerdy even for the nerds, smarter even than the smartest. That place made you terribly homesick and you had cried yourself to every night there, wanting to be in your own bed, craving your mother’s hugs. The last that you had seen of her was on your parents 25th wedding anniversary. Your mom had looked so beautiful that night in the perfect red dress your dad bought for her. You’d watched dreamily as they both danced around the house, giggling like two teenagers in love. You had wanted to fall in love at first sight, too. Wanted a man to look at you, the way your dad looked at your mom. You’d gotten at least one half off that wish, you thought to yourself wryly.</p><p>That night, before heading to bed, your mom had visited you in your room and she’d brought along a gift for you. It was that beautiful red dress she’d been wearing all night long. Of course you had refused, but she had insisted, calling it her blessing so you could find a truly lasting love as well. Even though you had been a big girl, she had pulled your head in her lap and hummed you to sleep. This was the last song you had heard your mother sing. A month later, she was dead. You didn’t know how long you had heard that song play over and over in a loop, before you fell asleep.</p><p>The one problem about sleeping in the bunker was that you never knew what time you woke up, because no light from outside ever filtered in. Groggily, you yanked the discharged headphones away from head and reached out for the clock.</p><p>“Holy shit!” you yelled, jumping out of the bed, it was 2 in the afternoon; you had slept through the entirety of the morning and a good part of the afternoon. Sure it was past 3 at night, when you’d finally allowed yourself to stop thinking and fall asleep but why had the boys not woken you up? You hurriedly rushed into the bathroom for a quick shower before heading into the kitchen. That god damned auction was tonight and you knew nothing about the plan and well… your stomach was rumbling, too. You found Sam there.</p><p>“Hey,” he greeted you warily, probably because of the show you had put out last night.</p><p>Your shoulders slumped. So Sam knew the big secret now. You were expecting to feel embarrassed or even vulnerable but none of those feeling made an appearance. You took your usual seat, completing ignoring the burgers and going for the milk and cheerios. Sam raised an eyebrow.</p><p>“What?” you asked. “I just got up. Bite me”</p><p>Sam only raised his hands up in a gesture accepting defeat.</p><p>You dipped your head further, hiding behind the box of cheerios. Why were you even angry with Sam? It wasn’t his fault that you were in love with Dean. He hadn’t pushed his brother in your face. Thinking of his brother, <em>where was Dean?</em> Your eyes immediately went to the door.</p><p>“He’s upstairs, getting dressed,” Sam said, addressing your searching gaze.</p><p>“Why?”</p><p>“The auction, Y/N!”</p><p>“What? It’s like 3 in the afternoon.”</p><p>“Yeah he wants to get there ahead of us, scope out the place and figure out what we are getting into. The auction starts at 7 and then the ball follows. Given that it’s a 3 hour drive, Dean should have an hour to go around the venue.”</p><p>“Yeah.” you mumbled, “Dean doesn’t want to ride along with me.”</p><p>Sam shook his head, “Y/N…” he started to say as sharp footsteps sounded in the hallway outside.</p><p>“Shhh…” you shushed him as Dean came into view.</p><p>Your jaw dropped. If you had ever thought that Dean was attractive, you stood corrected because that would always be a gross understatement. Dressed in a perfectly a fitting tux, he looked out of the world. There wasn’t a word in the vocabulary to describe how good he looked or to describe what you felt in that moment. Your head dipped right along with your jaw, and your glasses slid further down your nose. He was looking incredibly sexy. You’d ogle over Dean all the time when he wore that Fed suit, but this was different, the black color of the velvety lapels set his beautiful green eyes off perfectly. He looked like a red carpet celebrity and when he ran his hands through his hair… You had been so lost in him, you didn't realise that he was staring right back at you.</p><p>“C'mon, Y/N,” he whined, “Get that expression under control. You're making this worse.”</p><p>“W-What?”</p><p>“I know I look ridiculous, okay?”</p><p><em>Well you look ridiculously hot</em>, you wanted to say but apparently Dean had misread your expression. How could he possibly think he didn’t look good in it? For crying out loud, he looked like a reincarnation of Eros. He was pure sex in a tuxedo. You were embarrassed to accept it even to yourself, what he was doing to you. One look at him and you were a writhing hot mess. You shook your head trying to clear your mind and your hair came loose, while the pencil tucked behind your ear fell to the ground.</p><p>Dean lifted the pencil and tucked it back behind your ear along with the stray locks of hair, his fingers leaving behind a burning trail.</p><p>“I’ll see you there, kiddo,” he said, straightening up. He looked at Sam then, smirking once, “See ya, too, Sammy.”</p><p>And just like that he turned on his heels and walked out of the door, leaving you utterly speechless behind.</p><p>Sam let out a low whistle. “Someone’s got it bad.” You could hear him chuckle in the background</p><p>“Shut up, Sammy!” You muttered, pushing your glasses up against the bridge of your nose. The glaring difference had never been more obvious between how plain you were and how exceedingly handsome Dean was. It was stupid and sudden, but tears pooled in your eyes; you had never felt more out of place in this bunker. You removed your specs, trying to wipe away the tears, but the stupid bangs fell into your eyes instead.</p><p>A strong set of arms enveloped you from behind as you felt Sam slide in next to you. He pulled you to his chest and removed the hair out of your eyes.</p><p>“Shhh… ” he whispered, “I am so sorry, Y/N, I didn’t mean to upset you." You said nothing, but you didn’t pull away either; you liked it here in Sam’s arms.</p><p>Sam continued, "You're wrong, though. I know Dean better than anyone. He just wanted to get there early. It had nothing to do with you.”</p><p>
  <em>Exactly, nothing he ever did had anything to do with you!</em>
</p><p>“Sam?” You sniffed.</p><p>“Yes, sweetheart?”</p><p>“Why doesn’t Dean love me?” It was stupid and naïve to ask that question. You couldn’t make people fall in love at your whim. But you had to get that question out. It was drilling a hole in your head and you didn’t want to be alone in facing it. It was Sam’s turn to stay quiet now. Just when you thought he wasn’t going to answer, he said, almost hesitantly. “You don’t know that, Y/N.”</p><p>You scoffed. <em>Yeah right, Winchester</em></p><p>Sam didn’t press the conversation, he only hugged you tighter, but it didn’t seem like he had agreed with you either. He wasn’t the one to raise your hopes, if he didn’t believe it himself. Sam was plain stupid, you concluded. However, that one sentence had done it for you. That’s how it worked with hope, one tiny swish and it flared right up. You couldn’t gauge how long you both had stayed like that, lost in your thoughts but eventually you pulled away because both of you needed to get ready for the hunt.</p><p>It was only when you reached your room and locked the door behind you that you truly realised the gravity of what you were about to do. With shaking hands, you pulled out your trunk from beneath your bed and opened it wide, for the first time since your dad’s death. You braced yourself for the grief at seeing all the familiar stuff, things from your past life. You only felt a dull ache. Your fingers trembled as you reached to the very bottom of it and pulled out a garment bag. You closed the trunk shut and laid the bag on top of it, both wanting to and not wanting to open it. This was a part of you that held so many memories and dreams that you were almost scared of touching it. But it had to be done. You took a deep breath and slowly pulled down the zipper of the bag, revealing a magnificent Red dress, <em>that red dress</em>.</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>You set to work methodically. It wasn’t like you didn’t know how to dress up, it was just that you weren’t inclined towards it. The red dress was a masterstroke in itself, understated but beautiful. You pulled out the pencil that held the hair bun together at the nape of your neck, letting it as it fall to your waist. Your fingers fumbled as you did your hair in loose curls, styling your bangs on one side so that they framed your face. Your mother had been beautiful and she had passed some of that to you, so the dress fit perfectly. It accentuated your curves in all the right ways. Somehow your mind kept going back to the image of Dean in the tux as you did your makeup; plum lipstick, eye-liner and just a hint of mascara. Most of the make-up stuff had been salvaged from your home, before you had to leave it forever. You hadn’t felt this close to your mom in a long, long time.</p><p>After putting on a pair of drop earrings, and the only set of heels you owned, you reached behind to fix your dress. You were halfway across pulling the zip at the back up when you turned to look at yourself in the mirror. The girl looking back was every bit you but looked nothing <em>like</em> you. She was striking.</p><p>You saw the girl in the reflection raise a hand to her cheek and brush her finger tips against the skin, as if she was unable to believe what she saw there. Tears pooled in your eyes, but not because of how beautiful that girl looked. Sure sometimes you wanted to be like those girls that Dean hooked up with but for most part, appearance had always been the least of your concerns. You’d always put yourself in the average-looking category and that had been totally fine with you.</p><p>No, the girl in the mirror made you want to cry because she looked so much like your mother. With the hair loosely cascading down and your face fully exposed, it was like seeing a younger version of her, from when you were a little kid. Your dad always said that you smiled liked her and to test that theory, in spite of the tears, you willed your lips to curve upwards. The resemblance magnified and it only made you want to cry more.</p><p>There was a gentle knock on the door.</p><p>“Y-yeah,” you croaked, trying to get the tears under control.</p><p>The door opened and you turned away from that girl in the mirror.</p><p>“Y/N, I jus-…” Whatever Sam wanted to say, died on his lips. His eyes went wide and his eyebrows disappeared into his hair.</p><p>The smile from earlier was still playing on your lips and it grew even more pronounced at Sam’s reaction.</p><p>After the initial shock, he grinned so wide, that you were sure his cheeks must be hurting.</p><p>“Y/N! Is that you?” He exclaimed.</p><p>You rolled your eyes at that. “No, it’s Natalie Portman. Of course it’s me, you dummy!”</p><p>“Whoa! You look stunning!” Sam was skirting around, just a bit, trying to get a better look at you. He kept his distance, as if touching you with his big hands would break you or something. You shook your head and crossed the distance between the two of you in two long strides and ruffled his hair. With the added height of 4 inches, thanks to the heels, you could actually do that.</p><p>“You look beautiful,” he said, holding you by your exposed shoulders.</p><p>“Thanks, Sam,” you blushed.</p><p>“Really, Y/N, why have you been hiding behind all the glasses and over-sized T-shirts?”</p><p>“I wasn’t hiding,” you muttered, “I like it that way.”</p><p>His eyes softened, “Right, let’s move” he said, putting a hand on your back to guide you out.</p><p>“Oh hey, ” you realized the damn zip was still open at the top. “Help me pull it up, will you?”</p><p>“Sure,” you heard Sam behind you and then felt his fingers on your lower back. He seemed to struggle with it.</p><p>“No wonder you never get laid, dude,” you giggled.</p><p>“Shut up! The zip’s weird.”</p><p>“Yeah, right,” you laughed as the zip finally fell in place. You grabbed your silk wrap and followed Sam out without a backward glance at the mirror.</p><p>“Just to be sure, I did mention that you look lovely tonight, right?” Sam looked at you as the car came to a halt.</p><p>“Yes, Sam, you did. About eleven times now,” you blushed nevertheless and Sam grinned.</p><p>“Now it’s perfect,” he smiled, eyeing your flushed cheeks, “I heard what you had to say about it, but you really should dress up more often, Y/N. Sometimes I feel living with us is taking its toll on you.”</p><p>You laughed. “You know I don’t dress up and play pretend. This dress is making it hard to breathe as it is. It’s trying to kill me or something. Nothing beats the comfort of shorts and baggy T-shirts.”</p><p>You looked at the clock on the dashboard, it was nearly time. Sighing, as you turned away from Sam to open the door. As the car door clicked open, you felt Sam’s hand on your lower back, pulling the zip up again; it has slid down half an inch. You turned back and smiled at him.</p><p>“Maybe you still have a chance. Thanks, Sammy.”</p><p>“Always, Y/N,” Sam said as he took your hand and kissed it. You burst out laughing.</p><p>“You are such a dork sometimes!” You giggled, “Just because I am wearing a ball gown doesn’t mean you need to courtesy.”</p><p>“Sure do,” Sam smiled, “Go on and don’t forget the stakes. Dean has them. he’ll meet you in the ballroom.” The mention of Dean’s name brought back all the anxiety that had subsided during the drive from the bunker. <em>Shit! Dean’s here.</em></p><p>You gave Sam one last smile and stepped out of the car into the cool night, clutching your silk wrap tightly around your shoulders. The wind bit into your skin, making you shiver. The drive had been smooth. Sam knew how shy you were and how uncomfortable you might become through the course of the evening, so he had played your favorite songs in the car. You realized that the dress, however beautiful, was a death trap and coupling it with the heels was making you question your existence as you walked towards the venue.</p><p>You mulled over the plan once more to distract yourself from the nerve-wracking anxiety. You were to pose as an heiress and bid on the most coveted item to attract the attention, marking yourself as the target, while Dean would keep close tabs on you, in case you were in harm’s range. Sam was to scout the perimeter and take the thing down before it got to you. All of you were to have stakes on your person just in case. Simple!</p><p>Your heart started beating at double the speed the moment you stepped inside the hotel that was hosting the auction. If you were honest to yourself, it didn’t have too much to do with the plan or the threat of being killed by the Daityaa. It had everything to do with the green-eyed Winchester. What will Dean think of you? It was with shaking hands and wobbling knees that you walked through the door of the ball room where the auction was being held.</p><p>The ball room was circular and had a high set ceiling through which the moon-light trickled in, not that it mattered much, given the artificial lighting. There was a gallery running all around on the upper level which provided a brilliant view of the hall below and it was through this gallery that the visitors entered the hall. A curved, double-sided grand staircase lead down from the entrance into the ball room.</p><p>Well damn! Who had they designed the ball-room for? Effing Cinderella?</p><p>You walked up to the counter and placed your bid; the results were to be announced after the ball. The moment you reached the top of the staircase, you started looking for Dean; searching through the lavishly dressed, unfamiliar faces for the one you craved the most. You slowed your pace while walking down because reaching the bottom meant losing your vantage point, your eyes nervously darting around the room until you finally found him.</p><p>The moment you did find him, your heart froze. Dean was leaning against the wall on the opposite side of the room with a blonde wrapped around him like a vine. Even from across the space, you could see that patented smirk of his as he flirted with her effortlessly. All of your earlier hopes came plummeting down as your heart broke once more. What had you been thinking, getting them up like that anyway? Of course Dean was fooling around with women. That’s what he did. Even if he did find you attractive today, it would only be a onetime thing for him, as always. What would be the point to it all and where would it leave you? The pain was so bad, it was almost physically palpable. Your heart constricted and your breath came in short bursts. You tore your eyes away from that heart-wrenching scene, looking anywhere but at Dean. That’s when your eyes fell over the bar in the corner.</p><p><em>Fuck it! </em>That was your only thought as you stormed down the stairs towards the bar. The bartender checked you out.</p><p>“What can I get for the lovely lady?” He wiggled his eyebrows.</p><p>“The strongest shit you have.”</p><p>The guy looked taken aback. You guessed he was not used to that sort of language around here, but he handed you glass of amber liquid anyway. You had hardly ever tasted anything but the occasional wine from your church going days. You had no idea what this was but you put the glass to lips and downed it in three gulps; spluttering a bit as the liquid burned its way down your throat.</p><p>“Whoa, lady!” The bartender looked worried.</p><p>“More,” you demanded, banging the glass on the counter.</p><p>“Ma'am…” the guy started to say as a hand curled around your wrist. You smiled ruefully to yourself, so Dean had found you after all. Whatever had been in that glass was making it slightly fuzzy. Only one drink and you were already lightheaded.</p><p>“The lady asked for another drink,” the man next to you growled. Even though you were slightly tipsy, the moment he uttered the first word, you knew it wasn’t Dean. You looked around to see a handsome man with pale blue eyes, looking down at you. The bartender handed you another glass and you downed it, too. You could feel your inhibitions melting. Why had you never gotten drunk before? This was awesome! You hardly felt any pain at all.</p><p>The man next to you smiled, “Why don’t you dance with me, beautiful?”</p><p>You knew you shouldn’t trust anybody. You knew there was a monster out here, specifically looking for women like you to kill. Every cell in your body that retained reason was screaming at you to yell for Dean and stay by his side; to stick to the plan, but every ounce of your broken heart lured you into doing otherwise.</p><p><em>What the hell! </em>If Dean cared so much, he’d come find you instead of sticking like a leech to that blonde.</p><p>You looked at that man straight in the eye and breathed a single word. “Sure.”</p><p>He smiled at you once more, before pulling you on to the dance floor. You went with him willingly, wanting to experience what it was like to selfishly fool around with people and mindlessly make out with them. You wanted, for once, to feel like Dean Winchester.</p><p>Little did you know that the very man was staring at you shell-shocked, his heart leaping into his mouth as he saw you pirouetting around with a stranger. You were the most beautiful thing he had ever laid his eyes on.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>
    <span class="u">Dean’s POV:</span>
    <br/>
  </b>
</p><p>This wasn’t Dean’s idea of fun. Being trapped in a room full of stuck up people who had more money than they could possibly spend, but still wanted more, was anything but that. <em>Lucky sons of bitches are too into it to even care about their lives</em>, he thought to himself. Who in their right minds even wanted to attend functions like these in a town where the bodies are dropping faster than Chicago’s temperature in December? You hadn’t reached either when you were supposed to have been there half an hour ago. The tux was starting to make him feel uncomfortable. He had hated this whole idea of making you the bait in the first place. There was just something about you that had always made him want to protect you, shield you from harm’s way. It helped that you didn’t make any fuss about staying behind in the bunker while he and Sam hunted. He hated thinking about what could happen to you if you ever accompanied them.</p><p>If Dean was truthful to himself, he liked having you around the bunker. In the past year, you had become such an irrevocable part of his life, that he hardly remembered what it was like <em>before</em> you. Watching you cooped up in front of the computer, with your knees pulled to your chest and your tongue sticking out always warmed his heart. In the messed up lives that he and Sam had led so far, where they had been forced to grow up without ever having the liberty of being a child, your innocence provided a respite.</p><p>Dean loved that in spite of being a genius you never understood his dirty jokes, but you laughed anyways, so he wouldn’t make fun of you over it. You didn’t know, but he could always see the wheels turning in your head right after, trying to figure out what the hell the joke was about. The way you would look anywhere but at him, when the TV displayed a sex scene during their movie nights, blushing a furious shade of red always had Dean laughing. Even at gun point, he wouldn’t change a damn thing about you, not the stuttering or the nerd jokes, not even the way you laughed, two seconds after everyone else had. He simply loved having you around… the same way that Sam did… that brought Dean up short. Even though he was glad that you had chosen to move into the bunker with them, he couldn’t help but notice that you and Sam were attached at the hip during all the time you spent researching. It was always playful and geeky the way siblings are, but you had so much in common with Sam, that Dean couldn’t exactly gauge the nature of your friendship with him. Besides, while you laughed and joked with Sam, you had always courteous and awkward with Dean at best; there were so many times when Dean wished he could alter that one thing. He wanted you to trust him, too, to share your thoughts with him. But he also knew that it wasn’t something he was in luck for because you blamed him; held him responsible for your father’s death. Dean knew that you would never see him as anything but the man who couldn’t save her father. As much as he wished that he could come to you after grueling hunts, to pour his heart out, he knew he couldn’t. That one wall between his room and yours was thicker than a layer of brick. It was forged in blames and regrets. Dean knew that you could never forgive him for that day, he couldn’t forgive himself either.</p><p>He checked his watch once more. <em>Damn it, Y/N! Where are you?</em> </p><p>All of a sudden, Dean felt a hand over his shoulder. Turning around, he saw the blonde from earlier, whom he had been questioning about the last dead woman. They had been in the same social circle and Dean had wanted to know who she had left the party with. The blonde had no idea.</p><p>“Where’d you run off to, Mr. Richards?” She said, fluttering her eyelashes. She was hot and Dean could see that she was totally into him.</p><p>“Call me Sam, please,” He winked, smirking at his own little joke. If only Sammy got laid this often. “I had been looking for you, sweetheart.”</p><p>“Really?” She licked her lips.</p><p>
  <em>What was her name? Damn!</em>
</p><p>“Yeah,” he said, pulling her closer. If she wanted it, then what the hell, he could cash in some fun, too. As her hands roamed all over his body, he saw a dash of bright red in his peripheral vision and he did a double take.</p><p>The first image that registered was that of a beautiful girl in red gliding down the stairs. Only a moment later did he discerned that it was <em>you</em>. He could feel his jaw drop as he lightly shoved the blonde’s hand away from his chest. You were a vision, one that he couldn’t describe without falling short of words, one from which he couldn’t take his eyes off. As you descended down the stairs, the soft waves of your hair, bounced around your face. The dress was a simple and elegant off-shoulder, hugging your lush body perfectly and flaring just above your knee. How had he never noticed this? The soft curve of your shoulders, the elegant arch of your neck or the aristocratic shape of your collar bones? If you had been unapproachable before, you had put yourself even further up ahead now and Dean knew he could never catch up to you. You were like dream come true, but even though he hadn’t noticed all those little things about you, he had always noticed the eyes, those beautiful Y/E/C eyes; eyes that looked hurt and angry right now.</p><p>“Y/N…” He mumbled, moving forward as you reached the bottom of the stairs and disappeared into the crowd.</p><p>“Sam?” The woman called from behind him, but Dean didn’t turn back. Instead he threw himself into the crowd, trying to find you. He knew that you had walked into the general direction of the bar.</p><p>The many couples making their way towards the dance floor were confusing Dean as he ploughed through them. He finally spotted you towards the far end of the bar. What were you doing there? You never drank!</p><p>“Crap,” he muttered as you tilted a glass into your mouth. <em>What is she thinking?</em></p><p>Dean doubled his speed, colliding with people while trying to get to you faster, but that only made him slower. When he chanced a look again, you were walking towards the dance floor with another man, your hand in his. Blood drained from his face. For the life of him he couldn’t fathom what could make you so reckless. You weren’t the risk taker. On the contrary, you were far from it. You were the one always asking him and Sam to not do something stupid on a hunt. You had always been the cautious one.</p><p>But here you were, drinking and waltzing with an absolute stranger, putting yourself out there on purpose. Dean couldn’t understand why. But more than that, he couldn’t understand the strange heartache he felt- it was acute to the point of pain. You had known that he was here, waiting for you, but still, the moment you had entered the hall, you had sought another man. Did you really dislike him that much? That you would choose absolutely anyone over him? </p><p>He knew this heartache, he realized then. It was like those pangs of longing he felt every time he saw you joking around with Sam, but now it was different, stronger somehow. He felt like ripping you out of the guy’s arms as you danced around. Dean wrenched his eyes from the scene trying to fathom why it was so painful, looking anywhere but at you, to collect his thoughts, to reign in the unexpected anger. He became aware that, in that moment, that almost everyone in the room had stopped in their track to see you, the <em>lady in red</em>, twirl around. It was the most surreal thing ever.</p><p>Why? Why couldn’t he go back in time and throw himself in front of Danny as the vampire jumped on him. Dean would have gladly taken that pain to this new one, of being rejected every single time. His heart yearned for another chance, to meet you again, for the first time. Only he knew the amount of self-control it had taken to not go running to you, begging for forgiveness in your early days at the bunker. Heaven knew he had wanted to, but the look of pure anger you had given before flinging yourself at him in that hotel room was enough to stop him in his tracks. Late at night or in the early hours of morning, when he knew you would be asleep, he would sneak into your room to find you curled up into a ball on the bed, dried tear tracks running over your nose and cheeks into the still damp pillow. Seeing you like that was as bad as being put on the rack again by Alistair, if not worse, because it was his fault that you had been suffering. Dean would quietly walk up to you and gently remove your glasses, placing them on the bedside table. Even though he wanted to kiss that adorable nose of yours or kiss those tear tracks away, he knew he didn’t deserve the comfort that small gesture would provide him. He didn’t deserve any comfort at all. So he would leave, but not before adjusting your blanket and closing the door lightly in his wake. If you had ever noticed, you’d never asked.</p><p>While Dean was still reeling from the myriad of unexpected emotions within him, the people around had resumed dancing. The dance floor was full now, but couples were skirting around you, knowing that they probably couldn’t compete with that level of magnificence. Dean could see as you exchanged arms, there were so many men that wanted to dance with you, waiting for their turn as they gawked. And you? You were laughing and the sound was like the soft bubbling of a river. It was enchanting and heartbreaking at the same time.</p><p>Dean had never felt so torn before. On one hand he wanted to yank you away from those lustful men and tuck you by his side, never letting you go but on the other, he wanted to respect your choice. You had chosen this; them over him. His hands balled into fists by his sides as he willed himself to stay rooted to the spot. The feeling of helplessness that replaced the anger was even worse as he saw you swaying in a new man’s arms. You had placed your arms on either sides of his lapels, while one of his hands rested at the nape of your neck like he was holding on to you, the other was slowly gliding down to your lower back. Dean gritted his teeth. <em>Asshole</em>. Dean had had fun in his days. He still did but in all his time, but he’d never taken advantage of any girl who was even remotely drunk. He understood consent.</p><p>That was when it caught his attention- there was something off about the back-line of your dress. Was it torn? He unknowingly took a few steps ahead, squinting to get a better look. It was the damn zip; slowly but consistently with every swing of your arm, every dip of your back, it was sliding further down your back.</p><p>Shit! Dean sprung into action, trying to make his way across the hall. Even from this far back, he could see the evil smirk on the man’s face you were dancing with. The bastard, he knew it. His hand at your neck, was slowly following the path of the zip as the dress split open a bit more causing the straps at your arm to slither down. Dean cursed under his breath, trying to get to you faster as the zip slid down almost to the bottom of your back; your dress was on the verge of completely falling apart.</p><hr/><p>
  <span class="u">
    <b>Reader’s POV:</b>
  </span>
</p><p>You were gliding, or flying maybe, you didn’t know which; but whatever it was, it felt nice. The twirling was making you a bit sick but nothing that you couldn’t handle. This was good, you thought to yourself. You should dance more often.</p><p>Who were you dancing with? It didn’t matter. Just letting go for once was pure bliss in itself. The fact that you were light headed was adding to the whole dream-like quality of the scene. The moment you had walked on to the dance floor with that man, you closed your eyes, letting him guide you through it; mostly because it helped with the queasiness from the alcohol but also because it allowed your imagination to run wild. It allowed you to dream that you were in Dean’s arms instead.</p><p>The dress was perfect. It clung to your body like a second skin and yet it floated around, allowing you to move to the rhythm of the music. You felt one set of arms leaving you, only to be wrapped in another, but you didn’t care because none of them were <em>him</em>. Every time that happened, you squeezed your eyes tighter, ignoring the words the man holding you was whispering while you tried to hold on to the image in your head. In that picture, you were pressed against Dean’s chest, your ear resting against his heart as you moved to the beat. You played the moment when Dean had stepped into the kitchen, in his tux over and over, trying to sear it in your mind. He was flawless. The more you thought about it, the easier it became to loosen up. You could actually feel the silk of your dress loosening along with you, grazing your lower arms. Wait, the off-shoulder sleeves didn’t cover that part.</p><p>You sensed him before you felt it. A hand grabbed you by the shoulder and you felt another at the curve of your lower back, calloused fingers skimming your exposed skin for a second before finding your zipper and pulling it upwards. Your eyes snapped open. You were tipsy and slightly disoriented but how the hell had you not realized that your dress was falling apart? Your head was bowed down and you could see the sleeves were scrunched up at crook of your elbows, the neckline revealing the tops of your breasts. But even as the shy girl within you came to her senses, you could see the fabric rising upwards and back to its place as the zip at the back reached the top.</p><p>“What the <em>hell</em> did you think you were doing?” His growl came before you could look up. When you did look up though, your own were met with a set of brilliant green eyes. Eyes that you would identify anywhere. Eyes that were so furious, they were scorching.</p><p>Of course you knew it was Dean the moment this fingers made contact with your skin. Even in an inebriated state, you couldn’t miss that musk of his. At first you had thought that it was just your imagination upping it’s game, but when his hand reached your zip, that was when you had understood that it truly was Dean. The realization had only made it more difficult to look up at him. Then there was also the fact that he had just saved you from the sort of humiliation that would have made dying seem like a better option.</p><p>Looking up at him, it hit you that you were finally living the dreaming you had been imagining all night long, in a twisted and perverse way. He was angry that you’d recklessly gotten yourself in harm’s way, risking the plan; not to mention the disaster that could have happened had he not found you in the right minute. He was right to be angry with you and he was right to keep his distance. Who in their right minds would really want a girl as stupid as you? Who had been dancing with strange men, knowing that one of them could've been a monster? The corners of your eyes started to prick as the alcohol, Dean’s anger and the nerve-wracking fear of what could have happened crashed upon you all at once. You closed your eyes in an attempt to stop him from seeing you cry. He was angry at your idiocy as it is, he didn’t need to see how weak you were. The only image that your mind conjured up in that moment of weakness, after an evening full of playing your fantasies, was that of the blonde throwing herself at Dean. That did it for you and a sob ripped from your throat.</p><p>You felt his fingers at your chin, lightly guiding your face up. “Hey, sweetheart, look at me.” His voice was soft.</p><p>You shook your head, refusing to open your eyes or look up. You were afraid of what you will see in his face. Anger? Disgust? Or repulsion? You waited with baited breath to feel his hand at your cheek again, more forceful this time. But instead you felt it behind your head and he gently but firmly pushed your face into his chest. This time you didn’t even try to stop it as the tears flowed down your cheeks, your body shaking in his arms. He didn’t try to stop or tell you to calm down, he only hugged you tighter.</p><p>You stayed like that, in the middle of the dance floor for a long time; neither of you actually moving. Eventually when you pulled back, your hair was sticking to the velvet lapels of his tux. You let out a low gasp as you looked around at the near empty room. Almost all of the people had moved to the adjoining room to know the results of the auction as they were being announced. The chandeliers had been dimmed and the only light in the room was the moon-light flooding from the circular clerestory right above your head. The whole scene looked surreal and Dean? Even more so. You couldn’t take your eyes off him; while his shone like freshly chiseled emeralds. There were no words to describe the feeling that washed all over body and settled into the core of your very bones. He looked beautiful. But the most surreal thing was that Dean’s expression looked exactly like you felt inside.</p><p>The anger was gone, replaced by an awed tenderness, though his eyes still smoldered. Then suddenly something in them changed and they burnt a bit brighter as he leaned into you, hesitating, asking for your permission. Dean Winchester was asking to kiss you! This was unreal, it was too good to be true. That was your last thought as an unnerving force smashed into the back of your head and everything went black.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>This was it, Dean thought looking into your eyes. He couldn’t take it anymore. He had to let you know what he felt. Right then, every fiber in his body was screaming at him to press his lips to yours and you were right there in his arms, soft, warm and beautiful. In that moment, it didn’t look like you hated him or were disgusted by him. It looked like… like… Dean couldn’t bring himself to even say those words in his head. But if he was ever going to get a chance to seek for forgiveness, to show what he felt for you, this was it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It took more courage to lean in towards you than it had taken to go against the hell-hounds. Hell-hounds could only kill him, but you? You could hurt him beyond repair. In this one step, he was putting all of himself before you, and you could choose to vanquish him by rejecting him one more time. But it didn’t look like you were going to and all of a sudden he felt brave enough to linger inches away from your lips, waiting with baited breath. Just when it looked like you were leaning in too, there was a loud whoop from behind and you crumpled in his arms.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Y/N!” Dean yelled, as he shook you by your shoulders, one hand still resting on the small of your back, supporting you. His hunter’s instinct warned him of an immediate danger in the surroundings but he couldn’t find it in himself to tear his eyes off you.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The sharp hissing sound coming directly from behind you forced him to look up. He knew you were alive; he could feel your chest rising and falling with every breath you took, feel the steady thrum of your pulse against his fingers that rested on your neck. The blow had only knocked you out.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Behind you, eyes reduced to slits and feline teeth jutting out of the mouth was the blonde Dean had been making out with. Her black dress was in tatters and she was crouched low, ready to spring. Out of everyone in the party, she was the last person he had expected to be the Daityaa; maybe one of those jerks who were all over you, but not her. Dean looked at your unconscious form once before looking back at the pale skinned monster who was about to launch itself on you. He couldn’t drop you and run to the corner to get the stakes. He couldn’t leave you alone.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dean looked into the creatures feline eyes, muttering a curse under his breath and just as it was about to pounce on you, it stiffened and let out a guttural cry, arching its chest upwards. The tip of a stake was barely visible, protruding out of its gut as the Daityaa hit the floor. Sam was standing behind, heaving and covered in flecks of blood.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Dude, don’t just stand there! Help me get the body out,” Sam urged.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Luck was in favor because the ballroom had been completely empty. Everyone had assembled in the adjacent room for the auction results, or maybe it wasn’t luck, maybe the Daityaa was waiting to get you alone. Whatever the case, no one saw as Sam heaved the body up and dumped it in the trunk of the car. The moment it had hit the floor, the Daityaa’s body had turned into a shriveled up mummy, not unlike its own victims.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dean had however, carefully lifted you in his arms, carrying you to the car. You looked so peaceful in your sleep that it was hard to believe you had been knocked out. Dean heaved a sigh of relief. Whatever that monster was, it was lying cold in the trunk and wouldn’t be able to harm you anymore. When he reached the car, he gingerly placed you in the backseat so that your head was directly behind the passenger’s seat. He wanted to be able to look at you during the ride, to reassure himself that no harm had befallen you after all.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He bent over and kissed you once on the forehead before shutting the door and climbing into the driver’s seat as the Impala rumbled to life.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sam filled Dean in on how he was patrolling outside the building and saw scraps of black clothing strewn across the asphalt near the back exit. He had figured out then that the Daityaa had shifted shape and snuck into the building to find you. He’d just made it in time to find you unconscious in Dean’s arms and the monster about to lunge.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dean, too, told Sam his side of the story, the waiting, your drinking and all of your dancing with all those jackasses. He was almost to the part where the zip had started to come off but he stopped, unsure of whether he should tell Sam about it. Instead he changed track and ranted about how he couldn’t understand what had gotten into you that made you dance with strangers. It felt good to get that crap off his chest.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sam however was looking at him with raised eyebrows.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What?” Dean asked</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nothing,” Sam smirked.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Come on, spit it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re so stupid, Dean,” Sam said.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Why?” Dean turned to look at his brother.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sam said nothing. He only sighed and turned to look at you. Dean didn’t know what to make of it. He was scared of what Sam might have to say about this, but he couldn’t rest without knowing it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why’d you say that?” Dean questioned, hesitant.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sam sighed. “Are you blind? Can’t you really see she’s in love with you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know I shouldn’t say it because it’s not my place but you’re being so thick headed about this whole deal. Y/N loves you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What’re you talking about? She nearly hates me. I mean look at her, she hardly even talks to me and I can’t blame her because what happened to Danny was my fault. I should’ve saved him. It’s because of me that she lost her father. How could she possibly love…?” Dean’s voice almost broke on that word.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What happened to Danny wasn’t you fault, it wasn’t anybody’s,” Sam tried to lower his volume, which was steadily increasing. He didn’t want to wake you up. “Y/N was upset that day and she regrets blowing it on you. She doesn’t blame you, dude.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“See, that’s exactly the sort of thing she’d tell you but not me. She talks to you all the damn time. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Sam this, Sam that,</span>
  </em>
  <span> she barely even looks at me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sam squinted at Dean for a second.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So this is what it’s about. Just when I thought you couldn’t get any stupider, Dean,” Sam was trying hard not to laugh. “She sees me only as her best friend, like a brother maybe. I'm the guy she comes to crying about how </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> don’t love her, you moron!” Now he started laughing in earnest.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dean felt relief surge through him, relief so intense that it almost hurt. Even then, it was hard to believe what Sam was saying. Dean knew Sam wouldn’t lie, but he wanted </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> to say it out loud to him. Suddenly he couldn’t wait to get to the bunker, to have you in his arms, confessing the words.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“She does love you Dean and I’ll kill you if you ever repeat to her that I told you.” Sam wasn’t laughing anymore. “What do you think she was supposed to do when she saw you making out with another woman?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dean had never thought about it that way. Only now that Sam had put it out, did Dean imagine the scene from your perspective. Of course you felt hurt and betrayed, of course you drank and sought comfort in another man’s arms. As reckless as it was, it had been your coping mechanism. That chastised Dean up and he drove in silence for a while.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, Dean?” Sam asked after a bit; there was a hint of teasing in his voice.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What did it feel like to make out with a Daityaa?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Shut up!”</span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <b>Reader’s POV:</b>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The stupid zip wasn’t going up. You were trying your best to yank it upwards, but the damn thing wouldn’t budge by an inch. “Fucking zip,” you muttered to yourself. Suddenly Sam was there right next to you, trying to pull it up for you and failing hilariously.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“No wonder you never get laid dude,” you giggled.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Shut up! The zip’s weird.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A thick sense of Déjà vu’ settled over you. This had happened before, in a dream maybe? Or had it really happened and now what you were remembering was a dream? You tried to dig deeper into the dream, or memory... whatever it was, and it all came crashing down on you; the dress, the ball, the zip creeping down and Dean’s arms. Those strong and firm arms. He had looked into your eyes and hugged you. He had let you cry into his chest, he had leaned into you… He had smelled so good. Then there was that blow.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The head-splitting pain came before the realization of what had truly happened and your eyes flew open. “Dean!” You breathed, before looking around, trying to discern where you were. Your eyes were immediately met with a pair of green.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, sweetheart,” he said lightly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You wanted to groan and roll over. As painful as the headache was, the embarrassment was way worse. You could see that you were back in the bunker, in your own bed so Dean had obviously ‘saved’ you. You hated being the damsel in distress and what more, this time you had played that part perfectly, complete with a ball gown and pointed heels.  More than that, you remembered what had happened earlier, the god awful drinking, the reckless dancing and the crying. You had also somehow deluded yourself into thinking that Dean had wanted to kiss you and you had leaned into him, making your intentions perfectly clear. So of course you wanted to roll over and maybe die?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Though the moment you looked into his eyes, you were trapped. There was no escaping this, there was no escaping </span>
  <em>
    <span>him!</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How’re you feeling?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Better than I deserve, I’m sure,” you muttered.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dean chuckled softly, “No really. You okay?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, my head hurts.” Looking into his eyes was like being in a trance; you answered without thinking, blurting out the truth. You had been so used to looking away from him all the time that you couldn’t fathom the hypnotic hold he had over you. You tried to sit up too quickly to break his spell and ended up gasping for breath. God, the headache was a bitch!</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Whoa, whoa easy there.” Dean supported you by your shoulders. His fingers on your skin sent jolts up your spine. Whoa!</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That thing got me pretty hard, huh?” You winced.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dean chuckled again, “It ain’t the hit sweetheart, we got Cas to heal you from that. It’s the hangover.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>What?</span>
  </em>
  <span>  You rubbed your forehead, “Why the hell do you even drink then?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dean said nothing and you looked up at him once more. He was perched at the edge of your bed, looking at you like he was trying to figure something out. Instinctively, you reached for your bangs, trying to pull the locks down so that they fell into your eyes. Anyway the hair was a crow’s nest. The Cinderella was long gone, with her shiny hair and lined eyes. This was just you. If there was any way that all your wild fantasies about Dean wanting you were even remotely true, they were all swirling down the drain right now. However, before you could flatten them on your forehead, Dean’s arm shot out to stop you.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You know, you don’t need to hide behind them,” he said, a soft smile playing on his lips. All you could think was that he was touching you, as every nerve in your body went into hyper alert. Suddenly he stood up and pulled you off the bed with him. His fingers were still gripping your wrists and you found yourself pressed against his body.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We never got to finish that dance. Would you like to dance with me?” Dean asked, his eyes boring into yours. There was no way you were going to say no to him but there was also no way you were going to be able to form coherent words either, so you simply nodded.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The smile Dean gave you was dazzling.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He bent down to your bedside table and switched the ipod on. The song you had put on repeat from your tantrum with Sam yesterday, filled the room. It felt too otherworldly that this was the song that would play.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When Dean straightened up there was something else in his hand- your glasses. He blew the dust off them, that had settled overnight, before putting them on you. He brushed the hair off your face and tucked them behind your ear. Before you could make sense of what was happening, Dean leaned forward and quickly pecked you on the tip of your nose.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ve always wanted to do that,” he winked and grinned sheepishly. Sheepish Dean? Was that even possible? At this point, you were bringing back the idea that you were still knocked out and dreaming. Or worse, maybe the monster did get you and you were dead. Dead and in heaven. As far as heaven went though, this was perfect. If you could pick out a heaven for you, this was what it would be; dancing with Dean in your mother’s dress, to your favorite song in the place that had come to become your home.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But if this was heaven, why were your feet killing you? Then there was also the matter of the splitting headache. You decided to shove the stupid thoughts away and just live in the moment. You were getting your dance after all.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dean pulled you into him, his hands circling your waist, while you rested both of yours on his chest. Dean had ditched the tux at some point during the night. He was barefoot, dressed only in his white shirt dress with the top button undone and pants. His hair was disheveled and he looked gorgeous.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suddenly, he grinned at you mischievously, before dipping you down and making you squeal. You giggled as he pulled up once more and twirled you around before pulling you to his chest. You sighed happily and wrapped your arms around his lower back, resting your head against his chest. His steady heartbeat almost made you want to purr in contentment as you danced slowly while the song replayed in the background-</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I’ve never seen you looking so lovely as you did tonight,</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I’ve never seen you shine so bright,</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I’ve never seen so many men ask you if you wanted to dance,</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>They’re looking for a little romance, given half a chance,</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>And I have never seen that dress you’re wearing,</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Or the highlights in your hair that catch your eyes,</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I have been blind;</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>The lady in red is dancing with me, cheek to cheek,</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>There’s nobody here, it’s just you and me,</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>It’s where I want to be,</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>But I hardly know this beauty by my side,</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I’ll never forget the way you look tonight…</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re quiet,” you said finally, wondering would could be possibly going on in his mind.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well that guy is singing it all for me,” Dean replied and you felt his lips brush the top of your hair. You quickly replayed the lyrics in your head once more. If he truly meant what he said… If the lyrics truly fit what he wanted to say…</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You know, it’s not just that,” he said, quickly interrupting your stream of thought. “If you’d turned up in a nerdy t-shirt and shorts for the goddamned ball, you’d still have been the most beautiful girl there tonight.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You couldn’t believe what he was saying. You were glad that you face was pressed to his chest and you weren’t looking at him, or else your knees would have given out.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I love the way tuck your hair with a pencil,” he continued, “I love the way you keep pushing your glasses up your nose all the time. You always lose the bookmarks and always stub your toe at the corner of the pantry door. I love all those little things about you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He cupped your face in both his hands and gently pushed it upwards, so your eyes met with his. There were tears in your eyes while his were burning in their sincerity.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And,” he whispered, “I love you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Is this real?” You sniffed, trying to control your tears.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yep,” he said, “Let me prove it to you.” His lips crushed into yours and there was a hungry edge to it, like he was trying to assert his point. You gave in willing him, letting him take control as his tongue licked your bottom lip and slid into your mouth. He tasted amazing and soon you were giddy and gasping for air.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Believe me now, sweetheart?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah,” you breathed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>This man, who had made you stutter and gulp because of how much you loved him was trying to prove to you how much he loved you. A sudden boldness surged through you as you pulled him back and kissed him with equal fervor. You waited for all the shyness and the truckload of insecurities to make an appearance but they never did. This man, in all his Adonis-like glory wanted you, even in baggy shorts and spectacles, so why care about any of it now? Your fingers found the buttons of his shirt, trying to undo them. Dean pulled back a little to look at you and there was wonder in his eyes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you sure?” He asked.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes,” you whispered and for once you did not stutter “I want this Dean. I love you. I always have and I always will.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Y/N,” he mumbled and once again pressed his lips to yours, his hands travelled up your back as his pulled the zip down this time.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Please let me know what you think of this series. I live for feedback</p></blockquote></div></div>
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